


What Binds Us

by inadistantworld



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Afterlife, Angst with a Happy Ending, Deal with a Devil, F/M, Soul Rescuing, Soul Selling, True Love, Ultimate Sacrifice, Vex'ahlia's Big Dick Energy, Wife Saves Idiot Husband From His Own Heroic Actions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 01:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17478443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inadistantworld/pseuds/inadistantworld
Summary: Percy has always been willing to do whatever it takes to save Vex, even if it means selling his soul. And while he may have sold his soul to two dark entities, he gave it away to the only goddess he ever believed in and she has come to take back what is hers.Or what if Percy didn't give Pike the contract and one day he needed it.





	What Binds Us

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a long time ago, almost the whole thing from start to finish, and hesitated on posting it and then I deleted it. But here's the thing, I really really love fic about resurrections and selling souls and rescuing souls and all of that kind of stuff and it sucks that in the past I didn't think I was strong enough or confident enough to post it. I'm not saying I'm stronger or more confident but I'm much more interested in writing things I like and enjoy which today included souls and true love and I'm going to post it because I want to and that's called growth babey.  
> ALSO. I would be eternally grateful for your help in finding that part where Percy is talking about how he's going to have multiple dark entities fighting over his soul after he dies and Vex says something along the lines of "And I will be one of them" because it's one of the most powerful Perc'ahlia lines and I've never seen a gifset of it but like, I'm not creative enough to have made it up on my own so it has to exist and I love it.  
> Anyways, hope you guys like souls and rescuing people you love from the sacrifices they made for you.

He had thought about giving the contract to Pike. It’s not like he had the best track record in terms of impulse control. Something always stopped him, though. Every time he went to take it from its safe place his hand faltered and he left it where it was.

It was on his mind rather often at first, but slowly it faded. It was never like he forgot about it, but it soon fell into the same obscurity that his guns fell to. A memory of a terrible thing that he had grown from. But it was always there should he find a reason for it.

After he and Vex had children, after his clock tower, after his mostly peaceful life as a much better leader than he or Cassandra ever thought he would come to be, after everything in his life settled with no signs of falling to pieces, after he let his guard down for the first time since he was a boy, after the contract and the guns had gathered dust and stopped haunting his dreams every night and he was content with the knowledge that he would never need to open that safe again, his world shattered.

“I am Percival _fucking_ de Rolo,” he didn’t have the time to waste on his name, “We killed the Briarwoods, we stopped the Chroma Conclave, we saved the fucking world from fucking Vecna! I will not stand here and let you tell me there is _nothing I can do_ ,” Percy hissed. He was cold. A man his children wouldn’t have recognized if they had seen him, a man his sister and his wife hadn’t seen in so long that they would have been shocked. He was a man that Percy had forgotten how to be.

He forced himself to breathe deeply. He stood straighter, ran his hands through his stark white hair and closed his icy blue eyes, and said in a calculated and hard voice, “How do we make cure her?”

Vex’ahlia, his heart and soul and savior and his wife, was sick. It had come suddenly and with force. She had weakened every day until now where she was bedridden and sleeping, unable to stomach most foods and her voice was weak and raspy and her forehead slick with sweat and her body shivering. This was the first moment Percy had left her side in weeks and only because the lead physician he had brought in made it clear that they should speak away from her. Vex had told him to go, to talk to him, that she would rest while he was gone.

He hated this doctor. He hated them all. And the clerics. And the countless others he had called to help who had been unable to do anything. Magic, science, herbal remedies and superstitions, Percy had even succumbed to prayer, and none of it had done anything. And now this man would be another one to tell him that there was nothing.

It was an answer Percy refused to hear again.

The man licked his lips nervously and looked down at the small leather book in his hands. “It is immune to magic and everyone who has studied it, no matter their methods, has found nothing to even slow down its course.” His eyes flicked up to Percy again. Like so many others he had only wanted to help Vex’ahlia de Rolo, one of the ones who had saved the entire world from so many horrors. He thought he could do his part, but, with a sinking realization, he was forced to confront the fact that he was no unstoppable hero as they had been. “We are of course still looking for an answer, but I feel that it is my duty to…prepare you for—”

Percy held up a hand and turned away, “Stop talking.”

“My lord—”

“I said,” Percy finally opened his eyes and the man was flooded with a cold fear that he was certain those who had gone against Vox Machina had all felt, “stop talking. Go back to work. Come back tomorrow morning. And do not,” Percy’s hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of the man’s shirt, surprisingly agile and dexterous in his old age, “tell me my wife is going to die. There is not a chance in this world that I would let this woman die before me.” And he pushed the doctor back and turned away and went back to his bedroom.

He sat in the chair beside the bed and took his wife’s hand in his. She was asleep which left Percy to his own thoughts, something that had always been a dangerous thing.

After an hour of holding her hand and staring down at her and thinking about his life, his promises to her, his mistakes and the beautiful things he had worked so hard to earn, to be the man who deserved them, he kissed the back of her hand. “You have made me a better man,” he whispered against the soft skin of her hand, “but there are some bad habits that not even you could help me with.”

Then he stood and went to the door. His hand touched the knob and he looked over his shoulder for one last soft look at the woman he loved with his entire being, and then he walked out of the room.

He kept dangerous things locked away in a safe in his workshop that was really ingenious, he was quite confident that nobody would be able to get into it without going to rather extreme measures, measures that would alert him well before they had gotten what they wanted. In this safe were a number of things that had gathered dust years ago, including the contract he had made with Ipkesh.

Without unfolding it he took it to his office, which was more of a personal library with a desk, but it had a window and it was a softer home than his workshop was, and it was closer to his wife. Here he read the contract once. Twice. A third time. And then he sighed.

He had thought about the last time he tried to use the Third Pact more than he was willing to admit to Vex’ahlia. He had come to the conclusion that it probably wouldn’t have saved Vax back then. Vax was being stolen by a god, he wasn’t sick and dying with no cure.

He looked out his window which overlooked the Sun Tree and his certainty faltered for just a moment. All he had ever seen from the gods was greed, a desire to keep what is valuable to themselves, an unwillingness to let go of the things they want. And he could understand if even Pelor, the god he was least offended by but who was still a god, wanted her and was tired of waiting. Perhaps in the same way he wanted all of his Champions, but Percy knew better. Vex was so much more than any Champion would have been before, she was absolutely the most valuable person to Pelor right now, and with what Percy knew of gods he couldn’t be certain that Vex was not being stolen from him as well.

Percy thought he would make a better god than all the others he had met. _He was selfish_. Percy crossed the office to the desk _. He was driven_. He picked up a quill with a long white feather speckles with gray and black. _He was wildly intelligent_. He dipped the tip into his fine black ink used for official paperwork. _It didn’t hurt that he was handsome like a god_. He drew a practice line over a blank piece of parchment, making sure his signature would be up to his standards. But perhaps his most godly trait of all was that he possessed a _refusal to lose something he loved_. If it was Pelor or the Raven Queen or even just the nature of life and death that was trying to claw Vex’ahlia from his hands then he only needed to have the stronger grip. Percy would not lose in a battle of wills, especially not when it came to Vex.

His hand stopped just above the page. Ipkesh would not be patient in waiting for his soul, he would want to claim Percy as soon as he could. He may save Vex, but how much time he would have with her? With his children? His children were adults now, they had taken on most of caring for Whitestone, they had grown up and were living their lives as their own people now. Two of them had even taken to adventuring, though Percy and Vex worried relentlessly over them.

It hit Percy for possibly the first time in his life that he was getting old. He had spent most of the first half of his life quietly awaiting death, hoping it would come quickly and leave him finally at peace. The second half of his life he had spent wishing for more minutes in a day and death a distant thought but not a hope. And somewhere along the line he had gotten old and it had crept up on him.

If he lost a few years he could be fine with that, Vex had so much more she could do. They always knew he would die first, and at the end of it all he wasn’t losing much more time. He could be okay with that. He could even be happy with it, leaving his wife healthy and happy to watch over their children and their city as they had always known she would.

The cost of losing time with her was worth not losing her.

_Percival de Rolo._

He signed his name in the blank space in the Third Pact, officially marking him as The Recipient of its terms.

And despite all of Percy’s unacknowledged fears, it worked. He was granted “knowledge of ancient power beyond his grasp” and the magic and understanding that came with it circumvented the magical block of the illness, paired with some lost knowledge of traditional medicine with ingredients that were incredibly hard to come by. And Vex’ahlia was saved. And he lived on.

People asked for answers and he sidestepped and maneuvered around them artfully, just like a politician, and the contract was sealed in the safe again to protect his family as well as hide his evidence. It didn’t matter though, sometimes he could feel Vex’s sad eyes on him when she thought he couldn’t tell, sometimes he could feel it in the way she gripped his hand, see it in the books she secretly read about devils and contracts. Her bow sat closer to the bed, her body quicker to move when strange things happened around them. Percy would owe her for saving his life a handful more times before he passed.

And when he did so it was peaceful, surrounded by his family and loved ones and it was not at the hands of a devil trying to snag him before his time. It was a better life than he had ever deserved and a better death than he had earned. And the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was his loving wife pressing one last kiss against his lips and she whispered something to him, but it was lost to the silence that surrounded him.

The peace did not last long, he knew it wouldn’t. After all, he had sold his soul twice.

Under the usual circumstances there would have been a deal made between the two, some kind of payment, in order for one to keep Percy, but he was simply to juicy, too valuable, just too good for them to give up so easily. Instead they came to a more unorthodox agreement. Joint custody. They would trade him back and forth.

And Percy didn’t argue, didn’t use his silver tongue, didn’t fight back, didn’t do anything but accept his fate. He had chosen it and he would take responsibility for his choices with the same raised chin and annoying haughtiness that he had in life. Both of his new owners were rather interested in breaking that and seeing the kind of man he was beneath it.

They couldn’t seem to break him right away. They weren’t worried of course, they had an eternity to try, but Percy remained largely the same. Only one powerful being had ever broken his mask and gotten to the man inside, and she had done it with gentle hands and words like “we will be the glue” and “I should have told you, it’s yours”. Whatever torture and hell these two had in mind could never compete with the sheer joy and paradise Vex’ahlia had given him.

They traded him back and forth, Percy was sure there was a pattern to it but time travelled differently and he figured there was little point in tracking it when it no longer meant anything. And he did his best to put his head down and shoulder the responsibility, his suffering was well deserved for the things he had done in his life, and even his pain was dulled with the knowledge that Vex’ahlia had been saved.

The trade happened in an unfamiliar place on another plane where Orthax and Ipkesh would meet on a hill in the dark of night and he would go back to the home plane of the other monster he had sold himself to. It had happened many many times and he was sure that it would happen the same way every time until time ceased to be.

And then, one night that was so similar to all the others there was a flash of blinding light and when he could see clearly again, she was there.

And she looked exactly the same as she had the very first time they met when she had pulled him from his cell and he pressed five hundred gold into her hand and decided she was the most beautiful vision he had ever dreamt up.

And when Vex’ahlia took in the scene before her she felt her breath catch in her throat and had to resist the urge to throw herself at the man before her, dirty and with white hair unkempt, he was younger and wearing the same clothes he had worn the day she found him locked up in a cell, and his sharp blue eyes looked at her the same way they had all those years ago. Like he had finally understood why so many placed so much faith in gods and goddesses.

“I have come to claim what is mine.” Her voice was strong and clear and she lifted her chin as if to dare them to deny her.

Percy was absolutely silent, his shoulders slack and if he could think properly he would have run to her or he would have told her to run, that these two were beyond defeating. Maybe he would have just cried. Instead he just soaked her in and watched her at work.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Ipkesh’s smile was long and kind and wrong, Percy had decided it came from the coldness in his eyes. “This man belongs to us. He’s bound to us by contracts and deals, something a mortal wouldn’t understand.” He said it with a smile and venom and with a power that vibrated through the air and would have ended the attempts from others.

Vex was not that kind of woman, however. There were few things more intimidating than Vex could be herself and even less that truly scared her off. Especially not when it came to Percy.

“I’m going to make this so easy for you.” Percy’s lips twitched up into a smile at Vex’s voice. It was the same she had used so many times before, it was light and gentle and it made it clear that she was better than whoever she was talking to. “This man belongs to me. He has always belonged to me and he will until the end of time. You have your deals and your contracts but he promised himself to me and I am here to collect on his promise.”

“Your loving promises to one another don’t—”

She held up one finger, silencing him the same way she would have silenced their children and nobles trying to ask for more than they deserved. “Maybe I should introduce myself. I am Vex’ahlia de Rolo, Baroness of the First House of Whitestone, Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt, member of Vox Machina, Champion of Pelor.”

Ipkesh’s lips pressed into a thin line. He had always been the one leading the conversation. Orthax, the hulking shadow with an unexplainable weight to it stayed silent but Percy could see the signs of its discomfort.

“You have two options. You give him back to me and I walk away, leaving you two to continue your miserable existences. If you try to keep him, if you do not give me back the man who has sworn his heart and soul to me every day in return for mine, then I will ruin you. I will pour every moment into destroying you and behind me there is a god who will be very unhappy to know that I am ignoring my duties on the two of you. It is not only the Dawnfather who will support me for a quick end to this, but there are others who Percy has sworn himself to.” Her lips quirked up into an almost smile and her eyes softened when she caught his gaze again, “He has quite a large heart and you are not the only two who own pieces of him.” Se hardened again to look to Ipkesh and Orthax, “He belongs to me, the Dawndaughter. To Pike Trickfoot of the Everlight. Scanlan Trickfoot, Champion of the Knowing Mistress. Grog Strongjaw, Grand Poobah de Doink of All of This and That, a title you would do best not to take lightly. Keyleth of the air ashari, Voice of the Tempest. Taryon Darrington of the Darrington Brigade. And to my brother, Vax’ildan, Champion of the Raven Queen. There are others as well. Those alive and long since passed will come for you. Most of us with gods on our side, all of us with immeasurable power. This is my husband and you will return him to me.”

Ipkesh looked, for the first time since Percy had met him, like he had lost. His mouth was turned into the smallest frown and his eyebrows had come together and while he was good at pretending, at standing tall and holding himself like a man incapable of being outplayed, Percy knew Vex could see through it.

Orthax was harder to read, but he didn’t need to be read. He said it outright. “Ipkesh,” his voice like a cold wind in the dead of night, “he’s not worth this,” he felt like the movement at the corner of your eye that you can never quite catch, the panic that you’re not alone.

“Don’t tell me you’re backing out so quickly,” Ipkesh said with a smile drawn tight over his face.

Vex stepped forward again, “I would shatter the planes for Percival, I would destroy the entire City of Dis. You will always be running from me. I am Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt and I promise you this, you do not want to be my prey.”

Percy was not going to lie, it was a little hot.

Ipkesh looked at Percy once again, then back to Vex with a sneer. “Keep him, then. As stated in the contract, if both parties agree it is destroyed.” He turned to Percy with pure hatred, “Do you agree?”

“I do.” Percy stood tall and glared back.

“Then you’re free from my bond. And it seems our shadowy friend has also relinquished you. May we never meet again,” he hissed and with a wave of his hand he vanished. And when they turned to look at Orthax he had already disappeared.

So they looked back to one another, alone on a hill after so long of being apart. And Vex rushed to him, threw her arms around him, and he held her as close to him as he could and breathed deeply for the first time since the last time he saw her.

“Vex’ahlia,” he whispered her name like it was a prayer.

She answered him the way gods should answer prayers, with boundless amounts of love. “Darling,” she was breathless and she leaned away to take his face in her hands, “are you alright?”

She was no longer the woman who had saved him from a cell but instead the version of herself whose voice called him back from the brink of death with a love confession. And then she was the one who had come running to him with her first gray hair to laugh and say that they finally matched. And then she was the she looked the day he married her. The day he kissed her in the woods. The day she started getting wrinkles like his. The day she gave birth to their first child. Death was not as fixed as life had been and so form never settled on one version, instead she was constantly shifting between all the ones he had known of her and even some of the ones he had missed. There was one where her hair was more silver than brown and the wrinkles more pronounced. She had become an old woman in his absence, though no less beautiful and no less the true owner of his heart and soul.

Percy was also a form in motion, Vex caught the curl of smoke at his fingertips, she saw the first time there was a patch of white in the scruff he had forgotten to shave, the first time they kissed, the first time he tried to grow out an all-white beard, the first day she could clearly see all of the laugh lines Percy had, the day she married him, the births of their children, the day she told them goodbye. In every version he was always her Percy though.

“I am yours,” he answered.

She wrapped him in her arms and kissed him, whole for the first time in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> PS. I signed up for the Critical Role fanfiction zine and I considered saving this for that but I might not get in and I can come up with something else if I do but anyways wish me luck 'cause I'm real nervous but I would like to work with really talented people and would like some good vibes thanks bye


End file.
